Excerpt of Oklahoma Sweetheart by Carolyn Davidson

January, 1893
Kent Corners, Oklahoma

Connor Webster viewed the female standing in front of him. The woman who'd represented his future. He felt the urge to turn his back and walk away, across the porch and into his parents' home. Not that the woman he'd planned on marrying was unfit for the estate of matrimony. Loris simply was far from a suitable bride, so far as he was concerned. Considering that the baby she carried had been planted in her womb by his own brother, her pregnancy made her totally unsuitable.

Not that Connor couldn't have accepted another man's child. It was the betrayal by the pair of them that made him angry. And right now angry was too mild a word to describe the surge of hot-blooded rage that poured through him.

"I'm sorry," Loris said, her eyes awash with tears. And no doubt she was. But it was unclear whether her sorrow was due to the pain she'd caused him or because she'd fallen pregnant. Either way, he realized his love for her was a thing of the past. Even the tears that filled her soft brown eyes failed to bring him to his knees.

Loris was not prone to crying. He'd seen her conquer her share of adversity and even admit defeat when fate was against her, but never had he seen her shed a tear.

"You're having a baby. Am I right?" he asked, his voice terse and clipped. "And that baby belongs to my brother. Am I right on that point, too?"

She nodded, twice in fact, and then turned aside, as if she would begin the long walk back to town from his home.

"I know I've hurt you, Connor, and —"

"You don't know the half of it, Loris...." He could barely speak, the betrayal cut Connor so deep. He wondered if he truly could walk away from Loris with no regrets.

"What will I do?" she asked in a soft whisper, turning back to face him again.

For the first time since he'd discovered the truth, he felt a faint glimmer of sympathy for her.

"Maybe James will marry you," Connor said glibly.

"You know better," Loris said quietly. "He was out for a good time, and I fell for his promises. I was fool enough to think..." She shrugged, as if realizing that her excuse was lame, and she'd just condemned herself.

"He's your brother, Connor. At first I thought he was only flirting and it was exciting."

"You thought he'd marry you? But you were already betrothed to me, Loris. Why would James fall into that trap? He's smart. Apparently, smarter than I."

"That's not it," she said. "I thought he really loved me. That's where I was dead wrong. I should have known better. Your brother has courted every eligible girl in town — and some that were not so eligible. More than I can count, and I doubt he can keep track either." She laughed, and Connor thought the sound was singularly without mirth.

"So what do you expect of me?" he asked, knowing already what her answer would be. She was stuck between a rock and a hard place, and Connor Webster was her only hope of salvation.

"I would like you to honor your promise, and marry me," she said. The words were flat, without expression.

"I'm not a fool, Loris," he told her. "I'd planned a future with you, and that included babies and a farm and years of marriage. You've ruined all of that. I'm afraid you're on your own."

Loris's tears flowed down her cheeks, and onto the front of her dress. Connor felt an unwilling tug of pity as he looked at her. "I'll help you get out of town, if you like," he said. "Do you have any relatives who might take you in?"

"No." She shook her head. "And once my folks find out, I'll be on the front porch with my valise and nowhere to go."

"There's not much I can do for you, Loris," he said bluntly.

"I thought you loved me," she told him, her gaze falling to the snowy ground at her feet. She shivered, as though the sight of the newly fallen snow had reminded her of the chill of the dreary January day.

"I did," he admitted. "We've already gone over that.

But I trusted you with my heart, and you went behind my back — with my brother."

Loris turned away, her foot sliding on the slick ground. He reached to grasp her elbow and held her upright, but she withdrew from his touch.

"What will you do?" he asked.

"I don't know. But for sure I won't bother you again," she told him, walking away, her back straight, her shoulders squared, the road to town before her.

Loris Peterson had thought her life was planned, had been happy in her betrothal to Connor Webster, had thought she was in love with the man. Until Connor's brother, James, had entered her life.

James, was a right good hand with the ladies, a scamp of the first order, her father had said, when he found her speaking with the man in front of the general store one day. She'd been warned, not only by her father, but by her own common sense. And failed to heed the message.

James had been kind and gentle, yet dashing and sophisticated, at least to her eyes. And she had assumed that she was safe with him. After all, he was Connor's brother. As if that had made a difference.

Two brothers could not have been more unalike. Connor was steady, reliable and rock-solid. The sort of man a sensible girl would choose for a husband. And Loris considered herself eminently sensible. At least, she had until James had swung her around the dance floor at Eloise Simpson's wedding. His offer to escort her had been kind, she thought, with Connor gone on business.

James had been gallant, serving her with small cakes and cups of punch, and walking her outside when the grange hall became too warm for comfort, due to the number of exuberant dancers filling the floor.

Outside, he'd been funny, telling her stories that tickled her, probably more so because of the spiked punch he'd coaxed her to drink. He'd halted their progress beneath a tall oak tree, and there in the shadows that surrounded them, he'd kissed her for the first time.

Now, she wished fervently that it had never happened, or that it had been the first and last kiss she'd received from his experienced lips. There was something about a man with experience that appealed to a woman, Loris decided.

James knew how to bend her to his will, knew that his mouth against the nape of her neck would make her shiver with delight. Possessed of blue eyes and dark hair, he was handsome. Gifted with a body that was tall and well- muscled, he was strong, and yet he had a gentle streak that appealed to her as a woman. For surely a man so sweet would never cause her harm.

She laughed aloud as she passed the church, and then stifled the sound, lest some holy presence might strike her dead for her sins. Though that seemed unlikely, for hadn't the Lord himself forgiven the woman caught in sin?

Right now, she was more interested in the forgiveness of her parents, and that was not a likely occurrence. They would be horrified. Her mother would cry and carry on, her father would be stern and judgmental.And she would be forever left with the burden of guilt she carried.

Through it all would be the knowledge that her life was ruined. Ruined by one moment of temptation, one glimpse of pleasure, one man set on having his way with her. And he had. In the depths of her father's barn, where the hay lay soft and deep in a storage stall, he'd talked her out of her clothing, whispered sweet words of appeal, and taken her virginity. That he was very good at what he'd done seemed of little consequence now, for guilt overwhelmed her as she thought of her unfaithful behavior. At the time her thoughts had been of the years ahead, when she and James Webster would spend their lives together.

It was not to be. James had been offered a job as manager of a ranch in Missouri and planned to leave town soon. He'd told her of his opportunity, and she'd looked up at him pleadingly. "What about me?" she'd asked.

"Connor loves you," he'd told her. "He'll marry you."

"I doubt it," she'd said sadly. "I'm going to have your child, James. I've cheated on him. I hate myself. How can I expect him to forgive me?"

"Tell him I forced you into it," James said loftily.

"He'll believe you."

"And then he'll tell me to force you to marry me," she said. "And if my father hears of such a thing, he'll get out his shotgun and you'll be wearing a load of buckshot in your fanny."

"That's not gonna happen," James had said. "Connor will marry you, and you're smart enough to never let your father hear my name in connection with this."

Loris turned in at the gate and climbed the steps to the front porch of the big house she'd been born in nineteen years ago. Behind the house was a barn and corral, a henhouse and a garden. The property was not large, but prosperous. She clasped the door handle and turned it. The front door was closed but not locked, for the folks in this town seldom set a bolt on their doors.

People in Kent Corners, Oklahoma, could be trusted not to infringe on another's property. She'd heard that all of her life, and now she laughed as she stepped into the front hall. Most folks could be trusted, but not James Webster, who had done more than infringe on his brother's property. He'd seduced his brother's fiancée.

Then he had turned his back on his responsibility and walked away. His departure was scheduled for that very day.

Loris climbed the stairs, holding the smooth banister firmly, her legs not seeming solid beneath her. She thought for a moment of her father's shotgun, and wondered how it could be used to put her out of her misery. Then dismissed that thought as not worthy of contemplation. She'd never be able to pull the trigger.

If she had to find a place to live, scrabbling for food, making a way for herself, she would. If Connor was willing to pay for her passage out of town, maybe he'd help her move someplace close by, an abandoned house perhaps. There were several of them west of town, where families had renounced their dreams, and moved on instead to a more prosperous place.

She trudged to her room and sat down dejectedly on the side of her bed, unconcerned for once that she might muss the quilt. Her mother's training went deep and sitting on the bed, or, heaven forbid, lying down on it in the daytime, was strictly against the rules of behavior taught to young ladies who intended to be thought of as women of distinction.

Whether or not Loris held out any hopes of achieving that exalted position now seemed of little concern, for she knew that her position in society would henceforth be that of a fallen woman.

Now came the difficult part, she realized. Talking to her parents was the very last thing she wanted to do, yet was, of necessity, the most important item on her list of things that must be faced.

Suppertime would be the best time, she decided. In the meantime, she'd do well to sort through her clothing and see how much she could carry with her when her father showed her the door.